Life was so so sweet for me when I was young, I had a brilliant childhood and an even better teenhood!
It all went so terribly wrong after my Dad died. Everyone and everything changed. He couldn't have died in a more dramatic way if he had staged it. We were due to come to the UK for a holiday, my Dad had actually had enough living in paradise. We had only been there 3 years but he was bored and had had enough of the stupid people. Cypriots can be really stupid!
My Mum was quite relieved if truth be told, she missed her sons and grandkids and all her friends and lived in fear that Dad would get ill and die on us as he was a shit diabetic and she really didn't trust the doctors over there. Too true really, they misdiagnosed mum with cancer the first year we were there and tried to cut my swollen kidney in half the second year we were there. Remarkable!! How her fears would ring true a couple of months down the line.
So here we were almost ready to leave for our holiday when Dad didn't feel too great, his cousin was the leading heart surgeon in Cyprus at the time so we called him . After various checks at the hospital , turned out Dad had abdominal gangrene! WTAF Dad! He was always so careful checkin his feet after cutting the grass or doing anything incase he had cut his foot and wouldn't feel it as he knew it could turn into gangrene...but no, clearly missed the class on abdominal gangrene!! So he underwent a few operations and was in intensive care for two months whilst they tried to eradicate it. Both my brothers flew in from England to see him , even my brothers ex wife brought the kids over. My Dad even made up with his uncle he hadn't spoken to in over 15 years...it was all quite surreal and a bit scary to be honest, like everyone was saying goodbye. I spent most of my Days in hospital sitting with Dad, combing his hair so he didn't look like a half dead down and out. We often joked about his, "Dad you may be trying to die but you can at least look good' he would laugh and tell me he loved me. Me and Mum would then leave at night and go home, where Mum would just worry every second she was away from him. She told me one night that she knew he wasn't going to make it. Her exact words to me, as she was feeding our dogs was ' your Dads not gonna make Christmas Ev' obviously I didn't want to hear this and shouted and told her not to be so negative and how he was going to be fine because they've fixed him. I just remember her eyes, her big black beautiful eyes, filling up with tears as she just looked at me. I mean fuck Mum, talk about haunting me for ever with those eyes. The very same eyes that used to threaten me and the boys when we were young, one silent glare from those eyes and we knew we were gonna get it. But now...now those eyes were sad and terrified. Thanks for that!
Well needless to say she was bloody right wasn't she? Don't you just hate it when that happens? they always prove you wrong these parents...bloody know it alls.
Dad had eventually come out of hospital. All gangrene gone, amazing, my brother had flown back in to Cyprus for Christmas with my Dads ex business partner and everything was great...one week till Christmas and yay.
Or not....my Dad was a right arsehole. I remember the Day he died, bloody Christmas Eve, I mean come on Dad!!! He was sitting in the lounge and I asked how he felt. He rubbed his chest and said he felt a bit heavy. I said he'd be alright and I was off to go get his tablets and he'd feel much better. Dion was wrapping presents and showing me the Pringle jumpers he had bought Dad for Christmas. I had bought him a couple of shirts, I mean what do you buy the man who has LITERALLY everything.
So here we all were, Christmas Eve, mum was preparing the Turkey, Dad was sitting in the kitchen with her and his ex business partner looking at some jewellery they were sorting ( Dad was obviously a jeweller) He had given Dion a Rolex bracelet and asked if I wanted one. I was like...eer yeah. At the time I had half an arm full of rubber and leather bangles. He looked at me and said, if you take all that shit off your arm then you can have it.....I had to think about it for a few seconds lol.
I was lying on the floor in the lounge watching TV when my Dad walked in to get something, he was still a bit sore and unsteady on his feet so I told him to be careful and to mind the pile of magazines that were on the floor....he then came dangerously close to me head and I said, 'Dad, mind my head too" he laughed at me....little did I know then that these would be the very last words I ever said to my Dad, me hero, the man who gave me absolutely everything and more.
Me and Dion were watching Eastenders at the time, Dot was in the launderette, moaning about something or other. We then here Ron, my Dads partner yelling, "Andy, Andy...Maria...MARIA!!! " really loudly, we both looked at each other and smiled thinking what is Ron screaming about, we both went running in to see my Dad on the floor, My mum on top of him pounding on his chest yelling don't leave me you bastard...a bit extreme I thought, he was right there and clearly not about to go anywhere anytime soon....then I was like...ooooohhhhh...oohhhhhh ........ She then shouted at me to call an ambulance and my auntie. I was like yes..yes of course as I grabbed the phone to dial for an ambulance. ...an ambulance...now what was the number...could I remember the number..TO 999!!! could I fuck? So with Mum breaking every rib and bone in Dads chest, Dion squeezing his hand so tight it possibly broke, Ron a sniffling wreck swaying back and forth and me really not calling an ambulance any time soon, the poor sod didn't stand a hope in hell of surviving....you couldn't make this shit up!
Eventually my brain got in gear and I remembered, having to tell my auntie that Dad was on the floor in the calmest was I knew how so I wouldn't giver her a heart attack was hard. Needless to say the world and his wife were at our house within minutes and as they wheeled my Dad out on a stretcher, his eyes staring up, I was willing him to turn and look my way, to reassure me as he always always did that everything would be just fine, nothing is that bad. He never turned, his head never moved, his eyes remained open staring up and all I could think was, your hair... Dad your hair is messy, you can't go to hospital looking messy, you are leaving me with messy hair.....
So that was that, we all went to the. hospital, and came back hours later without my Dad. This was horrendous...what do we do now?
Hours passed, days passed, it was Christmas, Christmas passed, we had to fly my eldest brother in from the UK, that seemed to take forever to find a flight. He couldn't handle any of it. He was no support to Mum and struggled in his own nightmare. We were all criticised for not having my Dad in the house in an open coffin for 3 days so people could pay their respects, I mean really??? We could barely function without him, let alone look at him in a box fro 3 days. You stupid Cypriots! We were criticised at the funeral because we weren't wailing and screaming but held it together with dignity....except for that one little moment when they opened Dads coffin to do the Greek ritual with oil and dirt and a broken plate and my Mum threw herself into the coffin with Dad to hug him goodbye, that was awkward! My eldest brother just walked away, he couldn't bare to see Dad like that, leaving me and Dion to haul my mum back out. It was hard...she wouldn't let go ffs!
Life in Cyprus after that was just one criticism after the next. Everyone had an opinion, we weren't grieving enough, we didn't love him enough, why after 6 months did we stop wearing black? We had to wear black for ever more. I was 19 , I didn't even own any black back then,( oh how things change) we had to dye all our clothes black and that alone was hysterical , we got more dye all over the kitchen than on the clothes, with Mum occasionally swearing and throwing something across the room in her rebellious "your Dad hated me in black" anger. Me and Mum had to learn a whole new world, one where it was just us...yeah great..but errrr, I was trained for fuck all remember.
Dion decided he would give up his life in England to come over to help us. Alright Dion, you just wanted to be fed forever more...we know lol.
Me and Mum became inseparable, We built a life and we managed. Mum never quite recovered but when Dion joined us she just got busy looking after us both....mainly feeding us and all our friends who all became a massive part of our lives. Learning to live without my Dad, after all the protection and bubble wrap and stupidly spoilt life he surrounded me with was nothing short of comical. I was absolutely useless..I was an absolute genius at being a beach bum, god I had perfected that.... but bloody shit at everything else. Damn you Dad for treating me like a princess..wtf was I to do now the King had left the building? Fucking Liberty and how very selfish......... and so begun the debacle that was to become my life ..........
Beautifully written xxx